


Waiting On Some Beautiful Boy To Save You From Your Old Ways

by SaoirseKennedy



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: AU, Angel!Dick, Angst, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Two scenes, Underage - Freeform, but like end game is winnix, it's nothing huge, just like, kid!nix, nothing happens when he's a kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7799176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseKennedy/pseuds/SaoirseKennedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick is an angel who has never lived on Earth. One day he crashes to Earth, pulled by a soul he's been assigned to. He feels very unprepared to take care of this beautiful little boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting On Some Beautiful Boy To Save You From Your Old Ways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kunstvogel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunstvogel/gifts).



> Thanks to celestial-annihilation for the prompt! I love it and it blossomed into a 30 page fic! 
> 
> Please forgive any mistakes. I tried to go through and fix anything, but I probably missed something. 
> 
> Title from "When you were young" by the Killers

Dick had never been human; sure he had a human name, and a human form, but he’d never experienced a human life, or a human death. He’d walked among them only a handful of times, and had only spoken to one human his whole existence. He didn’t think that even counted. The human had been Jesus himself, and as much as he pretended, they all knew he did a poor job of being a normal human. 

He had sprouted into existence sometime between Jesus doing his thing and the prophet Muhammed being born. He spent his youth watching humans, watching them create societies, making love and war in equal parts. He loved the constant change of them, and their optimism despite dire circumstances. When he was moved farther up into heaven he mourned his window seat view into human’s daily lives. 

Dick spent the next two-thousand or so years flitting around the top-tier of heaven. In a human’s eyes, Dick supposed it was celestial and beautiful and glowing. He spent most of his time with his older brothers, Michael and Gabriel. They were archangels, tasked with important messages from God. Dick helped, essentially assuming the role of carrier pigeon. He’d hoped the job would bring him closer to Earth and the humans he’d left behind, but unfortunately he’d been left soaring through purgatory and hell. He was good at his job, and he did get some passing glimpses of Earth now and again, so he tried not to complain too much. 

He figured if he was gonna be around for eternity, he’d find his way back to Earth eventually. 

“Jim, I already told you, Michael doesn’t care about that,” Dick repeats for the third time. He was facing a slimy demon, one he usually tried to ignore. Most demons didn’t fit their stereotypes, and Dick was even on friendly terms with some of them. This one however, really only wanted to make Dick’s life harder. 

“You’re telling me Michael doesn’t care about beating up demons?” Jim snorts. “That’s all archangels care about.” 

Dick had no time to defend his brother’s less than friendly past with demons. “Michael isn’t in that business anymore. He’s been desked,” it was more or less true. Michael wasn’t allowed in hell anymore; he’d tried to start too many fights. As it was, now Michael needed the records of people sent to hell in the sixteenth century. Someone was appealing their sentence, and Dick had been sent to play nice with the demon. 

“Why should I? He’s been brutalizing my guys for hundreds of years,” Jim grumbles, but Dick can sense that he’s about the let up. 

“I know, and that’s why he’s been put off-duty. It’s just a coincidence that you happen to have what he needs,” Dick hopes this is actually true. “I’ll return it myself when he’s done with it,” he smiles patiently at the surly looking demon. 

A giant book pops out of the air, and Dick catches it easily. “I want it back by the end of the week,” Jim vanishes into thin air before Dick can respond. He sighs in the silent air, and makes his way slowly back to heaven. 

He takes the long way up, flying past Earth, looking dreamily on. It was sunset in the western hemisphere, and he could see the seemingly thousands of different colors in the sky. Everything was hot and sleepy on Earth. 

When he got back to the pearly gates he was grumpy and hoped he had no more errands to run for his brother. Even though he was a celestial being, he was sure he felt tired. He felt heavy and lethargic. He quickly dropped the book he’d collected from hell in Michael’s office. He’d styled it after some tycoon’s office he’d seen on his excursions to Earth. It was sleek and Dick thought maybe Michael had actually stolen the literal desk from the office on Earth. He didn’t stay long enough to inspect it. 

He was just about to find a place to hide out when a jerking pain erupted in his head. He cries out, swerving suddenly and landing on his knees. He’s completely alone, so he gurgles out a yelp of pain. He’s never truly felt real pain, he doesn’t think, and this feels real, dangerous, almost human. 

He’s writhing on the floor, trying to remember what an aneurysm is supposed to feel like, when another angel poofs up next to him. 

“Oh! It’s you,” a cheerful angel says. Dick glances up at him, holding his head. “I didn’t think it would be you.” 

“What?” 

“You’ve been chosen,” the angel says. 

“For what? Misery?” Dick pulls himself up, despite the fire burning at his left temple. 

“You’ve been chosen for guardianship,” the angel taps the side of Dick’s temple. “That should help. For now.”

It does, and Dick’s pain has been reduced to a minimal ache. He rubs at it, suspicious of the angel. He’s holding a clipboard, and Dick realizes he’s a lower level clerical angel. He’s never met him though. He looks, for want of a better word, young, and Dick wonders where he got the authority to zap an angel’s brain. 

“Did you make my brain fry?” 

“Oh gosh, no, that’s just what happens when you get chosen,” he looks at his clipboard, searching for something. “It looks like his name is Lewis,” he rolls his eyes. “Humans always name their new humans after themselves,” he chokes off his laugh when he see’s Dick’s confused expression. 

“Can we back up here? I have no idea what you are talking about,” the throbbing has come back in his head. 

“Surely you’ve heard of the guardianship program, right?” 

“Maybe, like a millennium ago,” Dick can’t help the snark. 

“Alright,” he laughs. “Ever heard of guardian angels?” 

“Yes,” Dick says, already knowing what’s coming. 

“Well,” the angel seems to sense Dick’s trepidation. “You’ve been picked!” 

“But I didn’t sign up,” Dick clutches his head as a wave of fire hits his temples. 

“Yeah, that’s not really how it works,” he hops from foot to foot. “Look you better get down there.”

“Down where?” but Dick is already been sent flying down to Earth, seemingly without his control. 

He’s rushing, falling through the air, and he feels scared. His wings have sprouted up, but he can’t get his bearings, and they flail uselessly. He hits the atmosphere at a free-fall, and for the first time ever, he wonders if angels can die. 

He hits the ground should first, pushing up Earth and rock and plants. He slides painfully to the side, his body landing like a plane without wheels. He’s skidding, gasping, and it feels like his skin will peel off. He knows he’s swallowed at least a few mouthfuls of dirt, and his lungs burn. 

When he does slow down, his head won’t stop spinning. It’s nighttime on Earth, and he lays in his hole for a good fifteen minutes, looking at the stars and trying to comprehend what has just happened. 

The throbbing in his temples has moved to cover his entire head, and he thinks maybe he’ll just stay in the ground for a while. He thinks he’s in a park, and the ground feels wet, so maybe it’s been raining. There’s a deep chill in his bones, and Dick recognizes the autumn foliage on the trees around him. 

“Hey!” the angel is back, tapping Dick insistently. “I said, you gotta go!” 

“Where?” Dick finally sits up. 

“According to my lists, one Lewis Nixon III had just been assigned to you,” he pauses. “So, better get to the nearest hospital.” 

“Hospital?” 

“Yes. That’s where babies are born,” he scoots Dick in the right direction. “Don’t worry, New York seems scary, but you have wings, so you won’t have to deal with the subway.” 

“New York?” Dick looks around him and sees huge buildings in the distance. He looks down at himself, viewing his human form for the first time in a very long time. He forgot how pale he was, and reddens when he remembers the color of his hair; he’d stick out like a sore thumb around here. 

“Are you gonna repeat everything I say?” the angel doesn’t sound as harsh as his sentence, and he sits Dick down on a damp bench. 

“I didn’t ask for this,” Dick pouts. Sure, he was on Earth, but now he was a guardian? What did that even mean?

“I know, but this is a great thing,” the angel’s soft face smiles in sympathy. “There’s a soul out there, right now, that’s joined with you. It chose you.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” 

“Look after that soul, make sure it grows up strong and lives up to its potential. Nurture him.” 

“Him?” 

“Lewis,” he explains. “He’s just a few hours old now. He’s got all the potential in the world.” 

“Aren’t his parents supposed to be doing all this?” Dick thinks about a little baby sitting in a hospital, waiting for him, and he feels supremely uncomfortable. 

“Well, yeah,” he sighs at Dick. “But there are some humans who shouldn’t be parents.” 

Dick’s mind races, and he stands up. “Okay.” 

 

Dick ends up at Bellevue Hospital, located in the Lower East Side of New York City. He keeps himself invisible to people, as he’s not sure what excuse he could give to visiting the maternity ward alone. 

He floats around listlessly, strung up with anxiety at his new position of guardian. Before leaving, the mysterious angel with the clipboard had insisted that he never let Lewis know Dick was an angel. Dick hadn’t said anything, but knew that that was a ridiculous demand. 

Then again, Dick still didn’t really know what he was supposed to do with this kid. 

In the end, Dick ends up peering through the window to the nursery, trying to decide which one was Lewis. He knew he could look at the nametags placed on the front of the beds, but he wanted to see if he could guess. His headache felt ready to split his head, and maybe that meant he was close. 

There were three beautiful baby boys with stringy blond hair, a pair of triplet girls, and a girl with rather pretty blue eyes that will probably turn green. In the corner, sleeping quietly, were three boys, all with dark hair. Dick glanced at the blond boys again, but decided to make his way into the nursery and go for the corner. 

He’s jumpy and creeps around the beds. He’s decided to make himself visible to the world, and his coat gets caught on the side of a cart. He wrenches it off and takes a steady breath. He feels horrendously human as he stares down at the babies; he’s sweaty and his hands are clammy. His head is full to bursting. 

“He’s the one on the left,” a familiar voice says. Dick turns to see the angel with the clipboard. He’s grinning, holding the clipboard behind his back. 

“Thanks,” Dick trails off, realizing he doesn’t know what his name is. 

“Carwood,” he nods, and is gone once again. 

And Dick is left alone with a little baby. 

He’s cute, he looks like little babies should; he’s got pink ruddy cheeks and dark hair that’s almost black. Dick stares at the name tag. He was born just a few hours ago, September 30th, 1918. Dick realizes he hadn’t even known the year until now. Everything blurs together when you’re as old as he is. 

Everything goes very still when Dick reaches out to touch his tiny hand. Little fingers grip Dick’s index finger weakly, and Dick gasps. The pain in his head evaporates, as if it was never there in the first place. There’s no noise in the room, and all the other babies have gone still. 

Little Lewis opens his eyes to look up at the mysterious stranger. His eyes are so dark they barely count as new born blue. Dick looks at them, wondering for a moment what color his own eyes are. He hasn’t checked, and in this moment it doesn’t really seem to matter much. Lewis is quiet and trains a thoughtful gaze up at him. Dick gives him a small smile. 

They stay like that for a while, until Dick hears noise coming from the hallway. He knows he has to go, but he already feels like he’s missing Lewis. 

“I have to go,” he whispers. “I’ll be back soon. I promise,” Lewis’ face twists into a cry when Dick backs away. It almost breaks his newly found heart, but Dick disappears from view, curious to see who Lew’s parents are. 

Two tall dark haired adults come in. Lew’s mom is wheeled in, and she’s got makeup on, despite the fact that she’d only been out of labor a few hours. His father is stiff and only glances down at Lewis before going to talk to the nurse that’s behind his wife. 

“Nothing wrong?” he says gruffly. Dick bites his lip from where he’s concealed in on the opposite side of the room. 

“No, sir. He’s a beautiful healthy boy,” the nurse looks like she could still be a teenager. She’s got her hair cut into a stylish bob, but it’s a bit too sophisticated for her young age. “Would you like to hold him?”

“No, no. His mother can hold him,” he points to his wife. “Doris, do you want to hold him?” 

“Oh, sure,” Doris says, as if she hadn’t considered the possibility before. The nurse looks between the two of them before gently pulling Lew out of his bed. He’s still crying, but it’s not a shrieking that would cause alarm. 

Doris looks weak, but holds Lewis close to her. A spark is lit in her eyes, a bright brimming fullness that makes her glow. Dick thinks he can see a gleam of a smile from where she is bent over him, but it’s small and could be missed if you weren’t looking too hard. 

“When can we get out of here?” Lew’s father says loudly. 

“Stanhope,” Doris hisses. Lew has started crying in earnest, and Dick longs to reach out. He feels foolish; he’s never even held a baby. 

“Tomorrow morning, if both mother and the baby are doing well,” the nice nurse answers smoothly. She looks as if she’s used to dealing with fathers of Stanhope’s brand. 

“Nurse, could you..?” Doris looks frightened, and the nurse gently takes Lewis away, rocking him gently. 

“It takes a little bit to get used to,” she smiles generously. 

“Stan, will you wheel me back to bed? I’m tired,” Stanhope grumbles, but pushes her through the door, leaving the nurse with a quieting Lewis in the dark nursery. 

 

Dick was angry, and profoundly happy at the same time. He thought of finding Carwood and begging him to take Lewis away from him. He’d seen humans like Lew’s parents before, but only in fleeting glimpses from his travels past Earth. They were thoughtless and self-absorbed; Stanhope had a temper stemming from impatience that colored too many men for Dick to care for. At best, Lewis would be ignored, and at worse he’d be destroyed. 

He knew he had to stay. He knew why Lew needed someone, although it was still a dubious choice in Dick’s eyes. He spent that first night keeping an alert eye on Lewis, who of course didn’t sleep through the night. He paced silently when the nurses came in to shush his wailing, and shot a quick prayer to God reluctantly for sending him down this path. 

 

Everyday Dick watched as Lewis grew. Doris had employed several nurses and nannies, so Lewis would never be alone, and for that Dick was grateful. They were all competent and caring, but Dick thought they were rather harsh. At night, when everyone was gone, Dick would appear in Lew’s room, and watch him. Sometimes, if he were feeling brave, he’d brush his fingers through his thin, wispy hair. He made sure Lewis was always fast asleep, so he wouldn’t cry when Dick inevitably vanished again. 

He grew up in a lavish home on the Upper East Side, away from the troubled world around them. The country was just getting out of a war, and Europe was in shambles. New technology and cars sprang up almost daily, and Dick watched as Lewis took his first steps on the deck of a brand new ocean liner in the middle of the ocean. He wasn’t even a year old, and already he was sailing for England. Dick smiled with delight as Lewis tumbled into his mother’s lap as she lounged in a deck chair. 

They stay in England for a while; Stanhope has business there, but Dick doesn’t pay attention to them when they’re not around Lewis. Heaven has sent him no further instructions on Lewis, and he’s happy to just watch, always keeping an eye out for danger. 

His first test comes when Lewis is a year and a half. Doris and Stanhope are having a party downstairs while Lewis is sick with a flu upstairs. His nurse dutifully gives him his medicine, and places cool washcloths on his head. Lewis is fussy, but doesn’t wail too loudly. Dick can’t help but shine with pride; he knows Lewis is a trooper. 

But when the nurse leaves the room to check on Lew’s dinner, Lewis toddles to the fireplace, where a roaring fire is going, keeping the January chill out. A hot poker has been placed haphazardly to the side. 

Dick seizes, coming into view quickly. He runs for Lewis, grabbing him up before he can reach for the red hot tip of the poker. Lewis is too stunned to make a noise for a second, but screams as Dick fumbles with him. 

“Shh, shh, you’re okay,” Dick soothes. “Lewis, you’re okay,” he double checks Lew’s small hands, making sure no red welts had popped up. 

Lewis squirms and plops his heavy head on Dick’s shoulder. Dick freezes, taken by the sudden intimacy. He shushes Lew until he hears steps coming up to his room. 

By the time the nurse walked back in with his bottle, Dick had vanished again, back to his usual corner, and Lewis was sleeping soundly in his crib. 

 

They return to New York City and Nixon becomes a curious toddler who studies everyone very closely. He rarely has temper tantrums, and seems to already realize that his parents leave a lot to be desired. However, he’s prone to bouts of moodiness, and he delights in running away from his caretakers. Often he’ll run as fast as can on his chubby little legs and duck behind a couch or cabinet, giggling until someone finds him. Dick hovers carefully at these moments, ready to step in, but generally Lewis is alright with self-preservation. 

When he leaves for kindergarten, Dick feels like he’ll throw up. There’s a whole world full of dangers out there. He’s only had to get Lew out of a few scrapes so far, and he’s not sure he can live up to his role as guardian angel in the city. 

“Hey there, Dick,” Carwood pops up one day, startling Dick, who’s looking on as Lewis goes down the slide in a Brooklyn playground his nannies took him to for the day. 

“Carwood,” Dick nods. 

“How’s he doing?”

“He’s,” Dick tries not to be overcome by affection for the little five year old. “He’s wonderful.” 

“You know, you can talk to him,” Carwood nudges his shoulder. He’s smiling over at Lewis, and Dick wonders just how many little kids he’s seen over the years. 

“I’m afraid he’ll start remembering me,” Dick’s heart leaps at the thought of talking to him. “He can’t know what I am.” 

“Well, yeah, but lots of kids have imaginary friends,” Carwood raises his eyebrows. “He’s still young.” 

“Thanks, Carwood,” Dick breathes.

 

“I don’t want to hear it!” Doris shouts one night when Lewis is six. There’s a crash in the kitchen. She’s thrown a glass against the wall, and it shatters amidst shouting coming from both Doris and Stanhope. 

Lewis is lying with his head under the pillows. Dick can tell he’s still awake by the way he tries to keep his body very still. 

“What are you gonna do Doris? Run away? Run away from me and Lewis?” his voice is imposing and frightening. Doris starts to cry and all is silent. 

Dick steps out from where he’s been standing by Lewis’ closet. He bites his lip as he goes to the bed. 

“Lewis?” he says. He’s rarely said his name out loud, but he’s thought it more times than he can remember. 

Lewis starts badly, banging his head on his headboard. He pulls himself up, and cowers against the wall. He’s been crying and there are salty tears and snot staining his face. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Dick wonders if Lewis remembers him from any of the handful of times Dick has stepped into his life before. 

“How’d you get in here? Who are you?” Dick smiles ruefully; Lewis is a smart, alert boy already. 

“I’ve been in here. I’m a friend,” Dick sticks his hand out for Lewis to shake. Lewis eyes him suspiciously. 

“I,” Lewis peers at him. “I know you.” 

“Yeah,” Dick smiles. “I was hoping you’d remember. I’m Dick.”  

Lewis is silent for a while, and Dick grows restless. He’s almost about to say something else when Lewis opens his mouth. “Did you hear my parents?” He says it in a way that breaks Dick’s heart. He wants Dick to know that Lewis knows exactly what’s going on, and that he’s not sad or embarrassed about it. He’s trying to be his father already. 

“Actually, that’s why I’m here,” this catches Lewis off-guard, and he clams up, balling his hands up in his blanket. “I bet that’s gotta be tough listening to,” he sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. 

Lewis shrugs. “They do it a lot.” 

“Does it upset you?” 

Lewis shrugs again. 

“It’s okay. It’s important to remember that they both love you,” Dick watches Lewis carefully for any signs of distress or disbelief. 

“I know,” he says, but he doesn’t look at Dick. 

“Hey,” Dick reaches out and pats Lewis on the shoulder. “If you’re ever alone and want to think about something else, I’ll always be there,” he tries to get Lewis to meet his eyes. 

“Always?” this has peaked Lew’s interest. 

“Sure, Lewis, it’s what I’m here for,” Dick breaths a sigh of relief as Lewis smiles up at him. 

“Where are you from?” 

Dick blinks at the subject change. “Up north,” he says quickly. 

Lewis stares at him for a second, and Dick can see tiny gears turning in his head. “Like, Harlem?” 

“No, a little farther north,” Dick laughs. Lewis would have an entire map of New York City in his brain, but have no clue about the continent of North America. He supposes that if you grew up in New York, what else would you need? 

“I like Harlem,” Lewis says, clearly done trying to guess. 

“You’ve been there?” Dick knows Lewis has only been there once, when one of his more adventurous nannies took him to his a show at the Apollo Theatre. But he plays along, anxious to get Lew’s mind off of his parents. 

“Yeah, I saw a show there. It was fun,” he says simply, beaming at the memory. “There’s lots of kids there,” he takes a breath to continue, but he’s suddenly streaked with terror. “Only, my father doesn’t know I went, so don’t mention it, okay?” 

“Your secret is safe with me,” Dick promises solemnly. 

“Thanks,” Lewis says quietly. He yawns a bit, and Dick stands up. 

“How about you go back to sleep?” Dick pulls the covers up around Lewis’ chin. 

“Where are ya goin’?” Lew says sloppily. 

“Nowhere, Lewis, I’ll be right here,” Dick soothes. “I think your parents are in bed for the night,” more likely Doris is in bed, and Stanhope is out drinking somewhere, but Dick knows it doesn’t matter. 

“Okay,” Lewis nods emphatically, and looks at Dick once more through heavy-lidded eyes. 

Dick watches Lewis sleep from the edge of the bed for a while. Now Lewis knows who he is, and Dick has promised to be there with Lewis when his parents fight. He’s been thinking for a while now that maybe he hasn’t been living up to his name; sure Lewis has impaled himself on anything, and yeah, he’s not fallen off the side of a boat, but Dick has sat back and watched Lewis cry in loneliness more times than he wants to admit. 

He tries to reason that Lewis needs to grow by himself, and that absent parents is a fact of life that lots of children have to deal with. Dick can’t swoop in every time Lew cries, can he? Besides, how is Dick gonna explain himself when Lewis gets older? How long does he get to stay with Lewis? 

“Dick?” Lewis calls suddenly. “Dick?” 

Dick comes out of hiding, popping off the bed and kneeling in front of Lewis. “Yeah, Lewis?” 

He’s quiet for a second, and he gives Dick the pensive look he’s seen trained on his parents and nannies. Then the look is broken and replaced by a goofy smile. “I was just making sure you were still here,” he pulls at Dick’s hand, and Dick scoots up towards him. 

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he’s a bit cautious as Lewis crawls up next to him. Lewis has taken to him rather suddenly. It makes Dick think about all the scenarios where this trait could get him into trouble. When Lew settles against Dick’s chest, he tries to push nervous thoughts from his mind. Instead he focuses on Lew’s breathing, on the way his still very small hands grip the collar of Dick’s shirt, and the content feeling that nestles itself in his ribs. 

For the first time in his entire existence, Dick feels himself nodding off into sleep. It creeps up on him slowly at first, as his thoughts become less concrete and more abstract. Soon there’s no thoughts at all, only the feeling of the bed and Lew keeping him warm. And then there’s a whooshing, and then nothing. 

He’s shaken from the blackness by Carwood, who’s stood over the two of them. He’s got a troubled look on his face. 

“Carwood?” Dick rubs the sleep from his eyes, careful not to wake the drooling Lewis. His face is tucked into Dick’s shirt, and his dark hair rubs up against Dick’s chin.

“Hey, Dick,” Carwood almost can’t meet Dick’s eyes. 

“What is it?” a chill runs down Dick’s spine. 

“Well, look, I sure am sorry I have to be the one to tell you this,” he pauses. 

“What?” Dick hisses, holding Lew close. 

“Do you know what kind of business Stanhope is in?” 

Dick searches his mind for memories about Stanhope’s work. He remembers Lewis messing up some of Stan’s notes, spilling chocolate pudding on them when he was three. He remembers visiting some office once, but Dick was too busy watching Lew play with his army figurines to really notice anything else. He fixes on a word he thinks he’s heard thrown around in passing conversations. 

“Nitration?”

“Right,” Carwood says, his tongue lying heavily in his mouth. “Uhm, so, Lew and Doris are supposed to go to the plant tomorrow, right?” 

“Yes,” Dick says, throat closing off. 

“Sometimes, in life, Dick, there are certain, events, that can’t be changed, even if they haven’t happened yet,” he looks pleadingly into Dick’s eyes. “Do you understand?” 

Dick only nods, fear and anger and terror gripping him. He pulls Lewis a little closer, and the boy only sighs against him. 

“Tomorrow, is one of those events. Dick,” his voice is sickeningly patient. “There’s going to be an explosion at the plant.” 

Dick’s brain is whirring too fast for him to produce an answer. He wants to yell one second, and cower the next. He knows what Carwood is implying. In the end he settles for confusion. 

“Why?” he keeps his voice low, away from the sleeping kid in his arms. 

“What?” it’s not what Carwood is expecting. 

“What’s the point? Why send me down here? What’s the point?” he’s close to yelling, and he feels a power simmering low in his chest, as if he’s about to sprout his wings and fly away. 

“Dick, you’ve done a remarkable job with Lewis. He’s happy, he’s smart, that’s why-” 

“What does that matter, if he’s about to be blown up?”

“Dick, it has to happen, this is a pivotal moment in Doris and Stanhope’s lives-”

“What? What about his life?” he pulls the blankets around them. He feels like a caged animal. 

“When Lewis dies, it will change Stanhope. He’ll rehabilitate himself, and his marriage, he’ll be a huge part in designing the naval fleet for the next war. Thousands will be saved because of his fleet; there’ll be a ship called the USS Lewis Nixon III,” he sounds hopeful, but he’s stepped away from the bed, as if Dick would jump up any moment. 

“But there won’t be a Lewis Nixon III,” Dick says too harshly. Lewis blinks awake at his name. 

“Dick?” he whispers. 

“Hey, Lewis. It’s still the middle of the night, buddy, why don’t you go back to sleep?” Dick looks past Lewis to find Carwood, but he’s vanished. 

“Did you,” Lewis knits his eyebrows together. “Are you okay?” 

“Of course,” Dick assures. Lewis, like many kids, seems to have a sixth sense for emotions, but Dick smiles down at him until Lew nods and places his head back on Dick’s collarbone. 

He knew Carwood would pop back up the second Lew started dreaming. He met him with rocky silence, wrapping himself more forcefully around Lewis. 

“Dick,” Carwood starts again. “This is why you were put here. To give him a good life, to be there for him, and to let him go at the proper time.” 

Dick felt guilt surge in him. He’d only just started talking to Lew, and now he’d have to let him die in some fiery factory. He was so angry in that moment, he wanted to forsake all of heaven for letting him attach to this little boy. Now they wanted to rip him away. 

“I…,” Dick croaks. “Why are you doing this?” he raises his arms a little bit, as if presenting the sleeping Lewis to Carwood. “Why do this to me? To him?” 

“Dick.”

“No. No, I won’t let it happen,” he was defiant. 

“Stanhope will get worse. His temper will flare. Lewis can’t possibly live up to his expectations. He’s too rebellious by nature, too different from his father,” Carwood has a look of great sadness on his face, and Dick almost softens. 

“That’s a bad thing?”

“He could get violent, he could do real damage, and Lew’s life could become too messy to fix.”

“Could. That could happen. Doesn’t mean it will,” Dick grasps onto the slim gleam of hope. 

“Without Stanhope’s fleet, the outcome of the war could be changed,” Carwood tries again, though his tone is slightly defeated. 

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t know what heaven will do Dick,” he warns. “You’ll be messing up their plans in the next great war.” 

“What does heaven care? Humans have always been at war. Besides, we just got out of a war. It should be a while before the next one starts,” he says. 

Carwood shakes his head. “It won’t be.” 

Dick remains stubborn. “It’s my job to protect him.” 

Carwood gives him a grimace, but nods and takes a deep breath. “Good luck, Dick.” 

 

“Lewis, please, listen to me,” Dick is sitting on Lewis’ floor as he put his clothes on. His nannies have recently started letting him do this on his own, and Lewis often takes advantage of it by taking as long as he possibly can to get ready. 

“Why don’t you just come with us?” he’s fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He’s missed one, but moves on to grabbing the socks laid out on his bed. 

“I am, I always do, but your parents don’t know about me. I have to stay out of sight,” he stares at the missing button on Lew’s shirt. 

“Why?” Lewis stops and walks over to Dick. 

“If your parents know about me, I might not be able to see you anymore,” Lewis’ eyes get very wide, and Dick reaches out to pat his shoulder. “That’s why I need you to listen to me.”

“Alright,” Lewis says easily enough, but Dick can see the eye roll that goes with it. 

“Lew,” Dick tries to keep himself calm. “When you go today, stay with your mother. Don’t wander off,” he kneels in front of Lewis and fixes the missed button. “Look out for any loud noises.” 

“Why?” Lewis looks genuinely worried. 

“I can’t tell you, but please, trust me,” Dick puts his hands on Lewis’ shoulders. “And don’t worry. I’ll be there.” 

“Will I be able to see you?” he sounds so hopeful, and Dick caves in. 

“Yeah, sure, Lew. But you have to act like you can’t see me. Remember your parents,” Dick winks. 

“Okay!” Lewis loves secrets. 

“Alright. Now put your shoes on and go down to your mother,” Dick tucks him under the chin, and they both smile. 

 

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” Lewis is shrieking at Dick, his little voice wobbling, and his fists pounding Dick’s legs. “I COULDA DIED.” 

“Calm down!” Dick hisses. Lew’s parents have left him in an empty room in the hospital. Lewis and Doris had taken a tour of Nixon Nitration Works, and all had been going well. Doris held Lew’s hand for the whole time, which made Dick breathe easier. They toured the factory and some of the workers said hello to little Lewis. He giggled and asked them all about what they were doing, and do like it here, and do you you know my father? 

“Yeah, I know your pop,” one young guy said to him. He had sandy hair that was dirty with grease, but he wiped his hands off before kneeling down in front of Lewis. “He runs this whole thing,” he points around the dirty factory, but Lewis looks less than impressed. 

“Where are you from? I’m from New York City!” Lewis launched into a detailed description of Manhattan, and the guys sat patiently, waiting for the little Nixon to finish. 

Nixon promised to visit them again sometime, to the chagrin of Doris, but the boys all smiled and waved. They said hello to Stanhope, who was eating steak and drinking heartily with some associates. Lewis only smiled and waited for Doris to lead them out of the door again. 

Dick was starting to doubt that anything would go wrong that day when alarm bells sounded, and Doris quickly gripped his hand. They made it out the door and still Dick thought maybe they’d be okay. Then, as Doris went to run to the car, Lewis fell out of pace with her, though he tried to keep up with her clacking heels. An explosion rang out and the doors to the factory went flying, right for Lew’s head. Dick had just gotten to him when the door ricocheted off of his outstretched wings. 

“Go, go to your mother!” Dick shouted, and Lewis scrambled out of Dick’s shaking arms. 

Now Lewis was wild, clearly panicking, his little body jerking sporadically. 

“DID YOU KNOW KNOW ABOUT THIS?” 

“Lew, Lew, please,” Dick grabs him, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. “You’re okay, and so is your mom. It’s over.”

“DID YOU NOT SEE THE DAMN GIANT DOOR FLYING AT ME?”

“Yes, I saw it, but please-” 

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THAT WAS GONNA HAPPEN?” 

“I didn’t know exactly what was gonna--,” Dick freezes when he hears Doris. 

“Lewis? What in God’s name are you yelling for?” she breezes into the room. She’s got cuts on her face and her stockings are ripped, but considering three people died in the explosion, she looks great. 

“He didn’t tell me!” Lew’s voice has gone hoarse, and Dick has vanished. 

“What?” Doris huffs. 

“Oh, nothing,” Lewis is still shaking, his lower lip wobbling dangerously. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Lewis,” Doris tries. “I know you must’ve been very frightened, but you have to stay strong okay? This is going to be very hard on your father,” Dick is incredulous, but Lewis nods solemnly. 

“Okay,” he says. 

“Okay,” Doris nods. She ruffles Lew’s hair. “Now, try to settle down. There’s a cafeteria down the hall. I have to go back to your father,” she’s out the door with another nod to Lewis. 

There’s a beat and Lewis collapses to the floor, his breathing hitched, eyes watering immediately. He wheezes and pushes himself against the wall so it can support his weight. Dick stares in shock for a second, residual anger at Doris stopping him from moving to Lewis immediately. He’s startled into action when Lewis calls out to him. 

“Dick! Come back,” he doesn’t seem like a growing six year old anymore; he seems like a toddler again, and it frightens Dick. 

Dick doesn’t say anything, only scoops him up from the cold floor. Lewis clings to him, his fingers scratching at the back of his neck. 

“Lewis, you need to calm down,” panic is wracking through Lewis, he’s sweating, and he’s not responding to Dick’s words. 

He pulls Nixon away from him, but he grips with a sudden violence and Dick has to pry him away. He sits Lewis in front of him, brushing the hair out of his eyes, wiping away the tears that refuse to stop falling. Lewis is heaving his breaths, hyperventilating, and Dick is helpless. 

“I’m not cut out for this,” he mumbles, holding Lew’s small hand through his sobs. He wonders for the thousandth time why he was plucked from heaven to watch over this wonderful little boy. Surely there were angels who did this full-time, who dedicated their lives to raising smart, loving kids all over the world. Why was Dick, who had only ever been a liaison to purgatory and hell, chosen to guard Lewis? Of course, he was supposed to let him die today. 

He looks at Lewis again. No, no matter how lousy a job he thought he was doing, he would never regret saving Lewis. He scoots closer to Lew, trying to be a comforting energy without crowding him. Eventually Lewis gets his breathing under control, and Dick can tell he’ll collapse in exhaustion soon. 

“Dick?” Lewis sniffs. 

“Yeah?” 

“I want my mother,” Lewis starting crying anew, but it’s quieter this time. 

“I know,” Dick’s heart breaks a little more. “Why don’t we go find her?” 

“I thought my parents weren’t allowed to see you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dick picks Nixon up, who immediately drops his head onto his shoulder. 

They wander out into the hospital hallway, and Dick finds a nurse station. It’s a quiet evening, and they have the radio; smooth jazz oozes out into the room. 

“Excuse me,” Dick murmurs to the nurse sitting at the desk. 

“Yes?” she looks very young, her striped uniform fitting loosely around her shoulders. She smiles worryingly at Lewis, but waits patiently for Dick to answer. 

“This little boy wandered off, I was wondering if you could help me find his mother,” he sets Nixon down on the counter, so he’s sitting with his legs swinging off the edge. 

“Hi there,” the nurse beams at Lewis. “I’m Molly. Who are you?” Lewis brightens at the attention the nurse is giving him. 

“I’m Lewis,” he pronounces. 

“And what is your mother’s name?” 

“Doris,” his ‘s’ comes out sounding like a ‘th’. 

“Oh,” her face falls, but only for a second. “I think I know exactly where you mother is,” she looks up at Dick. “I got it from here.” 

“Thank you,” he says. He puts Lewis on the floor, and Molly takes his hand. They start walking down the hall, Molly chattering steadily, until Lewis turns to look at Dick, slightly worried. 

Dick winks at him and nods. Lewis nods back, and turns his attention back to Molly. 

That night, when the Nixons have made it out of the hospital and Lewis is safely tucked into bed and sleeping, Dick cries for the first time. He thinks it’s out of exhaustion and residual anxiety and fear, but he’s deeply ashamed for it anyways. He’s an angel, not a human, yet he slowly loses control in Lew’s small room. He keeps himself hidden, keeps himself silent. When he’s done he falls asleep on the floor in front of the fireplace and doesn’t wake up until he feels the sun streaking across his face. 

When he does wake up, Carwood is sitting in the chair by Lew’s fireplace. Dick flicks his eyes to the bed, looking for the outline of Lew’s sleeping form. 

“Dick,” Carwood looks sad. Then again, he always looks kind of sad. 

“You’re not taking him from me, are you?” Dick makes sure Lewis is still breathing. He’s not thinking rationally, but he wouldn’t put it past heaven to sneak something horrible like that one him. Especially when he’s just deprived them of a new fleet of American Navy vessels. 

“No,” Carwood whispers. “But I do have news.”

“Uh-huh,” Dick presses him to continue. 

“Lewis won’t be protected by any higher power,” Carwood starts. “He’s an anomaly, he’s not supposed to be here. Heaven won’t accommodate for your actions,” he doesn’t sound harsh, rather he sounds carefully neutral, like he’s practiced this a few times. “Anytime he prays, or anytime fate can intervene, he’ll be met with silence.”

“He’s going to be excommunicated?” 

“He’s not supposed to exist anymore.”

“So he doesn’t get a new future?” 

“It doesn’t work that way. His line has run out. He’s a moot point,” this seems to really pain Carwood. 

“But he’s not actively on death’s door anymore?” 

“No.”

“Okay. Good,” Dick nods, eager for Carwood to leave them alone. 

“But Dick, now you’re the only connection he has to heaven, until he dies. He’s well and truly alone in the universe. That’s a heavy burden, for both of you.”

“He’s got me. And I’ve been alone for almost 2,000 years. We’ll be alright,” 

Carwood smiles. He gazes over at Lewis. “They get under your skin. I know,” he lays a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he says, and then vanishes. 

Dick goes over to Lew’s bed, and scoots him over so he can lay on the bed with him. Predictably, Lewis stirs and looks curiously at Dick. 

“Are you always here, Dick?” his voice is rough with use and sleep. 

“Yeah, Lewis. Unless you don’t want me to be,” Dick is ready to leap off the bed. 

“No, no,” he mumbles, curling closer to Dick so his head is almost touching Dick’s chest. “Stay,” he pats Dick’s hand, like he’s the one who is comforting Dick, instead of the other way around. 

Dick stays very still, waiting for Lewis to drop off into sleep again. It’s still very early, and likely the nannies won’t be in for a few more hours. In fact, it’ll probably be later than usual, given the events of the last day. 

“Alright, it’s just me and you, now, kid,” he drops a kiss to Lew’s forehead, and tries to go back to sleep. 

Sometimes Lewis wakes up shaking, crying for his mother, and Dick is sure he’s remembering the explosion. His nannie comes in sometimes, but on the weekends he’s on his own, except for Dick. Almost every Saturday night, Dick sits with Lewis, distracting him with funny stories when he can’t get back to sleep. Other times he’ll lay next to him, and Lew will talk about school or a dream he had or a dog he saw on the streets. 

Sunday mornings are hard because often Lewis hasn’t slept, but he has to get up early for church. Lew is good though, he gets dressed and grabs his small rosary from his desk, barely complaining. Dick tries not think about little Lewis praying for good things and happy parents. He knows no one is listening. He hopes Lewis doesn’t. 

  
  


The next few years are hard on Stanhope Nixon. His business takes on huge fines and two lawsuits for the lawsuit. He’s rarely home, which is good for both Doris and Lewis, but when he is, Dick is on high alert. Stanhope is almost always drunk, and sometimes Doris will flee for a week or so in an attempt to get away from the turmoil. She’d leave Lewis at an aunt’s house while she went to Philadelphia or Baltimore to shop and socialize. Her sisters were less than attentive, but it was better than when Doris left him at home. Stanhope had only yelled at Lew so far, but Dick could tell he was on edge. 

Overall though, Lewis was shaping up to be a bright young kid. He’d started excelling in school, and had a lot of friends. Often he’d shoot Dick a quick glance when he had friends in the room before he told them all a new joke or dropped a clever comment into the conversation. Often his friends would howl with laughter, and Lewis would sit there, smug and satisfied. Dick thought he was bit full of himself in those moments, but he was a charming kid so he shrugged it off. 

As Lew got older, Dick would often wander around the city by himself. He loved blending in with the other people, and sometimes he’d meet Lewis at the end of the day and walk him almost all the way home. 

Dick grew fond of Brooklyn and Staten Island. He enjoyed the solitary woods of the undeveloped island, and Brooklyn was earthy and cozy in a way Manhattan never would be. He also loved the little hot dog stands in lower Manhattan and would usually stuff himself full of them while Lew was in school. Honestly he was surprised angels were able to eat. There seemed to be so much heaven had forgotten to mention.

He got himself new clothes, even though his original clothes never actually got dirty. He felt weird about now having earthly possessions, but Lewis didn’t seem to notice the slightly bigger pile of clothes on his floor. Each day he felt more and more human, as if prolonged exposure to Earth was zapping him of his heavenly grace, but Dick was too content to notice. 

And then their little precarious cocoon of happiness was ripped open, as Dick knew it would eventually. He was hoping maybe Lewis would be able to enjoy a little more of his childhood first. 

He knows something is wrong when Lew walks through the door. “Lewis?” Dick appears immediately. The ten-year old drops his bag on the floor without looking at him. He pulls his school blazer and tie off, and piles them in the closet. Dick doesn’t tell him to hang the blazer up, more worried about what’s put Lew out. 

“Hi, Dick,” Lewis sits on his bed, crossing his arms. 

“What’s happened?” Dick sits next to him on the bed. Lewis has grown stocky; he’s got wide shoulders and lanky legs, all built around a solid torso. Dick was trying to convince him to become a swimmer, but so far he’s been resistant to any form of organized athletics. 

“You know how mom went on vacation a month ago?” Doris had gone to Palm Springs, claiming it would do her skin wonders, and Dick hadn’t thought much of it. She’d run to all corners of the world for as long as Lew was alive. 

“Yeah?” 

“My father just told me it’s permanent,” Lew’s voice is low and despondent. “She’s moving down there for good; away from my dad. Away from me.” 

Dick is quiet and takes a moment to just look at Lewis. He’s grown up well, and there are no tears at his mother’s absence. But Dick is worried Lew is building a wall that soon not even Dick will be able to get past. 

“I’m sorry, Lewis,” he says, even though he knows it won’t do anything to help Lew. He stills feels it though, which is important. “I’m sure you’ll be able to see her. She wouldn’t just leave you like that.”

“She wouldn’t?” Lewis snorts. 

Dick hates it when Lewis does this; he’s always doubting himself and what he means to others. “No, Lew.” 

Lewis looks up at him, trying to let Dick it. Dick can see it in his young eyes. He leans his head on his arm, and they sit quietly for a while, until his governess calls him to dinner. 

 

When Lewis is thirteen, Stanhope loses his cool for the first time. During a social dinner, with Stanhope’s business friends and Doris, who was keeping up appearances, and Lewis had become a little too loose with his words, and made a joke about the Nixon Nitration factory explosion. It went down like a stone in a river, and Stanhope scurried Lewis into the kitchen, red in the face. 

Dick didn’t follow Lewis in, wanting to give Lewis some space to make his own decisions. He went back up to Lew’s room to wait for him. 

When he saw the red welt on the side of Lew’s face, he regretted leaving him immediately. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m fine,” he waves Dick off when he makes to move to him. 

“Lewis,” Dick warns. 

“Oh please, I knew it was gonna happen someday,” it’s all Lew says about it while he grabs a washcloth from his bathroom. 

Dick considers going to down to Stanhope and throwing something at him while concealed, but he takes a deep breath, and goes to Lewis anyways. 

“I’m not a goddamn kid anymore!” Lewis yells. He’s got the wet washcloth on his injury, and he uses the other hand to swat at Dick. 

Dick wants to yell that yes, yes is very much still a kid, and now his father has bruised him, and how was Dick not there to help? He has one job on this planet and how could he have not been there? 

Dick stills his hands, and looks down, waiting patiently for a few minutes, keeping his breathing calm.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he finally says. 

“Look, could you please just leave me alone for a while?” it hurts when Dick hears it, but he nods quietly at Lew’s angry face. It isn’t really about Dick after all. 

 

Dick is gone for a whole day. He goes to Ellis Island for the first time because once, when Lew was in a mood, he’d ranted that he wished he was an immigrant, free of family ties, free to start over. 

It’s beautiful and the ocean breeze feels cleansing to his senses. Dick allows himself to wander around the buildings, and flits over to the Statue of Liberty for a while. It is a quiet day, and finally Dick can’t think of anything else but getting back to Lewis. 

When he pops back into Lew’s room, Lewis is bent over his homework on his bed. He’s biting his lip, and the temple of his head is black with a bruise. It makes Dick’s stomach clench. 

“Lewis?” he asks, hoping he won’t be kicked out again. 

Lewis looks up, several emotions flitting over his face. He shoves off the bed quickly, and makes his way to Dick. 

“Hey,” he sounds relieved. 

“You doing okay?” he looks down at him. His dark hair is brushed and neat, and his clothes are only slightly wrinkled. He’s become more aware of his appearance lately, and Dick shines with pride. 

“Mhm,” Lewis says from under the shield Dick knows is still up. He reaches in, though, and hugs Dick close for a moment, which is a lot coming from a thirteen year old. “Thanks for coming back.”

Dick raises his eyebrows, his arm still around Lew’s shoulders. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not,” he tucks his head down, away from Dick’s gaze. 

Dick puts his hands on Lew’s shoulders. “Lew, I’ll always come back. Okay?” 

Lewis rolls his eyes, trying to play off the serious moment. “Okay, okay.” 

“Alright. Now finish your homework.” 

 

“So, what are you?” Lewis says one day when he’s fifteen. “Am I crazy?” he’s just come home from his after school French tutor, and he takes out his books and sets them on his newly acquired desk. For as lazy as he can be, Lewis is really a gifted student, and his natural curiosity means that Dick rarely has to convince him to study. 

“Hmm?” Dick has just come back from Battery Park. He’s stuffed himself on hot dogs and Coca-Colas, and he’s thinking about a nap. 

“I’ve had a ginger watching me my entire life. No one else can see him. Am I crazy?” Lewis doesn’t seem put out by it. He waits patiently for Dick to answer. 

“No, you’re not crazy,” Dick starts. “Why haven’t you asked before?”

Nixon is writing down French vocabulary as he answers. “I liked the company. Even if I was crazy,” he looks softly up at Dick. “You were my first friend.” 

“Lewis,” Dick smiles. 

“So, what are you?” 

“I’m,” Dick wobbles. He supposes it probably doesn’t matter now, but he knows he’s technically not supposed to tell Lewis what he is. He thinks that they’re way past the point of no return for it to be of any consequence. “I’m here to watch over you.”

“For how long?” 

Dick hadn’t thought about that. “I’m, not sure. However long you need me, I guess.” 

“So, you’re like my guardian angel?” he looks up from his homework. 

“Yes, exactly,” hey, it wasn’t his fault if Lewis was a good-guesser. 

Lewis nods, writing down days of the week in French. It was like they were talking about the weather. “Can you fly?” 

Dick takes Lew’s notebook off the desk, examining the cramped handwriting. “Oui,” he smirks. 

Nixon raises his eyebrows at this, intrigued. “Do you have wings?”

Dick doesn’t say anything, which Nixon makes out to be an affirmative. He eyes Dick for a while, making him squirm. “How old are you?” 

“Old.”

“Like, Jesus old?” 

“Maybe a little bit younger.” 

“Well, you look great, Dick,” Lewis chuckles. “What’s your secret?” 

“You keep me young,” he says too quickly. He looks down at himself, inspecting his body, which he’d never taken much time to notice. “I think I look, I don’t know, maybe thirty?” 

Lewis looks at him for a long time. He wears a neutral expression, but Dick can see the tips of his ears go red. Dick’s anxiety spikes then, and he clears his throat. Lewis fixes him with a look he’s never seen before, and he’s supremely embarrassed. 

“I’d say, maybe twenty-seven,” Lew finally says. He doesn’t turn back to his homework; his gaze remains on Dick, like he’s seeing him for the first time. 

“Well I suppose you’d know better than me,” Dick scratches the back of his head. 

“How’d you figure?” 

“Well I’m not,” Dick takes the plunge. “I’m not human, strictly. Like you said. A literal guardian angel.” 

Lew blinks. “Wait, really?” he looks slightly panicked. 

“Well, what did you think Lewis?”

“Not a literal angel?” he stands, his French forgotten. “If I was crazy, surely my hallucination wouldn’t tell me.” 

“You’re not crazy,” Dick says again. 

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove that you’re an angel,” Lewis crosses his arms.

“No matter what I do, you could chalk it up to insanity,” Dick stalls. 

“You just said I wasn’t crazy,” Lew says.

“Well, you’re not, but I can’t exactly prove it,” Dick is running in a circle. 

“You said you had wings,” Lewis waggles his eyebrows. 

“No, you said I had wings.”

“Show them to me,” Lewis is excited now. “Please!” 

Dick scrunches his nose in frustration. He hates acting like he’s thinking about it, when he knows he’ll give into most of Lew’s requests. So he stands up, taking his nice new button down off, leaving only his undershirt on. 

“What, will your massive wings rip your,” he glances at the shirt. “Thrifted shirt?” he’s sort of leering in a teen way that Dick has never seen trained on him before. 

“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten,” he grinds out. “But I’m doing this for you,” he fixes Lew what he hopes is a withering look. 

It’s not a withering look, though, and Lewis gives him a grin. “Sorry. Continue,” then a little more sincerely, “Please.” 

Dick takes a breath, letting his wings sprout up, filling the room. They’re nothing great, just your basic white feathery wings that every angel gets. The archangels are the ones who have the massive, powerful wings, but Dick isn’t complaining. Also, it feels good to stretch them for a bit. 

Lewis doesn’t say anything for a while, just stares, in awe. Dick isn’t used to being scrutinized, and he feels flummoxed, like he did when Lew was looking at him earlier. Lewis inches closer to him, and swerves around him, looking from all angles. Dick sincerely hopes no one chooses to come look in on Lewis now, of all times, and he holds his breath. 

Then, Lewis reaches his hand out and gingerly touches his right wing. Dick shivers, and he remembers when he touched Lew’s hand for the first time, when he was only a baby. Now, he feels a similar headache from the first time he found out about Lewis, but it’s not altogether unpleasant. It feels grounding, and Dick wonders if he is slowly turning human after all. 

“Dick,” he says softly. All of his teen bravado has gone, and Dick only sees the young man Lewis is on the precipice of becoming. 

Dick looks down at him bashfully. “What?” he says, very, very quietly.  

“Just,” he shakes his head. “You really are an angel.” 

Dick relaxes, letting some of the tension out of his shoulders. “Either that, or you’re bonkers.” 

Lewis shoves him then, and they go back to their usual bantering selves. “Shut up.” 

 

Lewis is seventeen, and taking lessons for his debut into society next year. He’s learning etiquette (which he already knows, but is loathe to use), romance languages, and dancing. He’s fluent in French and Italian, and can speak conversational Spanish. By now he’s become one of the most popular boys in his school, and even though he often acts up in class, he’s genuine and clever, so he gets away with it, mostly. 

“Dick, you should see some of these girls,” Lewis is wound up from a night of foxtrotting and waltzing. “Patty Sheldon, she started crying because she found out she couldn’t dance with Robert Paul at her debut,” he’s practically dancing around the room, shoving off his dancing shoes and groping for his pajamas. “And the thing is, he’s not even that much of a catch!” 

“He isn’t?” Dick has his nose in a book. Lewis has gotten a new king-sized bed, and lately Dick has been on it more than Lewis. 

“No,” Lew goes into his bathroom, calling out to Dick. “He didn’t even know how to polka.” 

“Do you know how to polka?” 

“Dick, it’s only three steps and a hop. It’s gotta be simple, drunk Poles need to be able to do it.”

“Lewis,” Dick scolds. 

“I guess it doesn’t matter; the polka isn’t allowed at the ball. It’s considered too uncivilized,” he rolls his eyes. 

“I’m willing to bet you’ll have fun anyways,” Dick marks his spot in the book and looks up at Lewis. 

Lew stills, and Dick gets a peculiar feeling. He’s been getting this feeling for a while, but he’s not sure what it is. It always happens when Lewis gives him that look, and Dick isn’t sure he wants the feeling to go away, even if it does make him nervous. 

“I wish you were gonna be there,” he says. 

“I can be, if you-”

“I know, I know. But I mean, really there,” Lewis rushes. “You know what I mean?” 

This catches him off guard. “Yeah, Lewis,” he smiles. “I know.” 

 

The balls goes off without a hitch, and Dick leaves after Lewis has had his first dance with a very lovely young girl named Peggy. They choose a dramatic waltz that seems to fit both their personalities. Everyone is dazzled and Lewis twirls her expertly. He really would’ve made an excellent athlete. 

He goes back to Lew’s room to wait. He finishes his book, makes a trip to the store for a coke, and even tidies the room a bit. He knows it’ll be a late night for Lewis, and when he does stagger in, Dick passed out on Lew’s bed. The trouble is, Dick has concealed himself, and Lewis ends up toppling onto him. 

He gasps awake, laughing a bit at Lew’s stunned face. “Sorry, sorry. I was waiting up for you.”

“Doesn’t s-seem like it,” Lew slurs. Dick realizes he’s completely drunk, and he tries to stop the rising bubble of panic in his throat. Lewis is smiling, and looks like he’s had a great night. 

“Here, let me help,” Dick helps him shimmy out of his very expensive Brooks Brothers suit. It’s then that he notices fresh bruises on the side of his ribs. He immediately stops Lew’s movement, and brushes his fingers along the offensive purple blotches. 

“What are those?” he says sternly. 

Lewis seems to sober up quickly, and he tries to squirm away. “It’s nothin’, really--”

“When did it happen?” 

“Dick, come on, it’s late,” he twists away, but Dick has got his wrist gripped in his hand. 

“Lewis, tell me,” Dick can’t let it go. 

“A couple days ago. I had just come home from school,” Lewis says to the floor. “Dad was drunk, and angry.”

“And?” 

“And nothing. He didn’t like the way I looked at him apparently,” Lewis broke Dick’s grip, and went for a ratty tee shirt. 

“Oh, Lew,” Dick felt like sobbing, but he held it in. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there. Why am I never there?” he didn’t mean to say the last part out loud. 

“Come on, Dick,” Lewis waves his hands, sway slightly. “It’s okay, you can’t be there for everything.”

“I’m not there for anything,” Dick’s usually not one to wallow in self-pity, but Lew is his whole world, his weak spot. 

“Dick, I think you’re starting to sound too much like me,” Lewis looks on sadly as Dick hangs his head. “Aw, Dick. Don’t do that to yourself.” 

“I’m just not sure why they picked me, is all.” 

“Picked you?” 

“Yeah. You know, I wasn’t a guardian angel before you.”

“Huh,” Lewis looks perplexed, then confident. “Well. Good,” he sits down on the bed. 

“Good?” 

“I’m glad I’m the only one you’ve looked after,” Lewis has never been territorial before, and there’s that perplexing feeling again in Dick’s stomach. 

Dick just laughs shakily. 

 

“It’s my birthday next week,” Lewis is rocking back and forth on his heels. Lewis isn’t a month into his college career, and already he looks like a complete natural in his dorm room. He’s gotten a single, and took to setting it up with a critical eye; there’s Yale banners on each wall, with pictures of New York City above his bed. He’s got beautiful London Fog sheets, and the best part of the whole room was that it came with two beds, which means that Dick got his own for the first time in eighteen years. 

He’s perched on his bed now, as Lewis comes in, slightly damp from the rain outside. “Yeah, I know,” he says, becoming nervous at Lew’s tone. 

“I’ve got an idea.”

“What?”

“Let’s go out,” Lewis points dramatically to the window. “You and me. In public. Let’s go to the movies or something. Let’s get wasted,” he says the last part jokingly. “I know, angels don’t drink. But I’m serious on the other stuff.”

“I don’t know Lewis,” Dick has to admit it sounds tempting. He’s never been in public with Lewis, at least not on purpose. 

“Come on, we’re in college, nobody knows us. You look like you could be a college student,” he scrutinizes Dick. “You know we don’t actually know how old you are,” Dick opens his mouth to argue. “Don’t do that. You know what I mean!” 

So Dick agrees. They’ll go out for Lew’s eighteenth. 

 

“Do you like it?” Lewis watches as Dick takes a bite of the greasy cheesesteak. The cheese is scalding and he has grease running down his chin. It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

“Mhmm,” Dick gurgles. He chases it down with a fizzy coke, and burps, rather lewdly. “Excuse me,” he says when he’s able to take in a breath. “I think you’re a bad influence on me.”

“I think I’m a very bad influence on you,” Lew agrees, and it makes Dick want to take it back. He doesn’t think about it long though, and stuffs his face with the rest of the glorious food. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat again,” he says. The food has made him slow and sleepy, but Lewis is like a puppy dog, pushing him around campus for their next adventure. 

They stop in at Lew’s favorite book store, where he uses some of his birthday money to buy a couple Shakespeare plays. They walk along the edge of campus, admiring the beautiful fall foliage, and Lewis talks his ear off about classes. Dick feels himself become mushy and sentimental. Lewis is a man now, young and enterprising and brimming with life; he’s so bright, despite everything working against him at home. 

He supposes he’s loved Lewis since he first saw him. How could he not? It was true what Carwood said all those years ago; their souls were connected. Now, though, it was different, it made Dick giggle and want to be human with Lewis. Often he found himself wishing more than anything that he was human, that he could age with Lewis. Anything after Lew’s life wasn’t worth sticking around for, as far as Dick was concerned. 

Dick recognized romantic love when he saw it. He had grown enough human emotions to know what it felt like. He couldn’t help feeling bad about it, like he was encroaching on Lew in some inappropriate way and so he had decided he’d push it down, deep into himself. Anyways, he knew human society wouldn’t accept them anyways, and he couldn’t put Lewis through that. 

“You still in there?” Lewis says when they’ve gotten back to their room. 

“Yeah, of course,” he says. 

Lewis goes to his record player, which he bought especially for college, and puts on something smooth and oozy. Dick can’t tell if he’s making up the ambiance because he’s on high alert. He doesn’t know how to act around Lewis anymore. He feels young, and he can’t remember the last time that’s happened to him. Lewis makes him want to start a life, get a job, go to school. He’s always looking at Lew to see if he’s staring at Dick a little too long, or giving him a less than brotherly hug. But Dick’s never done this before, so he can’t recognize the signs. Lewis has only ever flirted, and even then he’s kept it to himself, only giving Dick the most basic of details. 

“I didn’t know you liked this sort of music,” Dick says, slightly dazed. 

“What sort of music?” Dick can’t decide whether Lewis is fidgeting or not. 

“Slow,”  _ Romantic.  _

“Oh,” Lewis is definitely fidgeting. He twirls a ring on his middle finger, wipes his hand on his trousers. It feels like the world has tilted a few degrees, but Dick isn’t sure when it happened. Maybe he was projecting. 

“So, are your parents coming up for your birthday, or,” Dick fumbles with his words. “Or, will you go out with friends this weekend? Eighteen is a big one,” Dick can’t make himself stop sounding like a parent. And he really, really doesn’t want to sound like a parent. 

“I hadn’t really thought about it much,” Lewis shakes his head. “My mother is in Argentina, I thought I told you. Maybe it slipped my mind.”

“No, you told me, I just, forgot,” Dick sits on Lew’s bed. He probably shouldn’t have. 

“Well, if my mother isn’t coming, then my father sure as hell isn’t,” Lewis laughs unevenly. 

Dick shrugs sympathetically. “At least they came to help you move in?” 

“Yes, it was nice of mother to have the maids put in drawer liners for me,” Lewis snarks, but he softens easily. “It was nice of them to see me off.” 

The music is bluesy and fills the empty spaces between them. Dick thinks of all the different music he’s heard over the past thousands of years and can’t think of anything he likes better than this exact song. He’s got no idea who’s singing, or even what year it’s from, but it frames Lewis in a beautiful way, almost like it’s physically surrounding him. There’s sun shimmering behind him, and his black hair deepens, his almost black eyes are blown wide. 

“They’re proud of you,” Dick is horrified when his voice cracks just a little bit. 

“Oh come on Dick,” Lewis seems to be under the same spell Dick is, because his voice is willowy and it compliments the music in the background. “I thought we knew each other better than that.” 

“Doris is,” Dick defends. 

Lewis concedes, nodding, looking squarely at Dick. “I don’t really wanna talk about my parents anymore.”

“Okay,” Dick says very slowly. 

He’s sure Lewis is going to come to him then, and do something he shouldn’t, something Dick shouldn’t allow, but he just turns the record over and lets the next song play. He puts their coats in the closet, and everything is still and calm. 

“Do you have a birthday?” Lewis takes him by surprise. It seems like the most important question he’s ever asked. 

“I’m sure I do. I came to being at a certain time,” Dick thinks. “But, no. Not in the way you have a birthday,” he thinks of that night he fell to Earth. 

“You want one?” now, Lewis gets closer. He’s not smiling, but he looks like he’s going to laugh. Or cry. 

“Are you offering?” 

“Yeah. Let’s think of one,” Lewis has always been good at throwing himself wholeheartedly into something. Even if it’s something as trivial as an angel’s birthday. 

“January twenty-one,” Dick says without thinking. 

“Oh, so you have been thinking about it,” Lew teases. “Any reason?” 

“I like January. Beginning of the year and all that.”  
“And the twenty-one?” 

“That’s how old I feel,” Dick lies. In reality, he feels much, much younger. Too young to handle anything that was currently presenting itself to him. 

“I thought we agreed on twenty-seven.” 

“You think that when you say something, we agree on it automatically?” 

“Yes?” Lewis laughs. 

“Fine, we can change it to January twenty-seve-”

“No, no, I was only joking,” Lewis stammers. “We’ll have to plan something spectacular.” 

“But right now it’s still your birthday,” Dick swallows. 

“Yeah,” Lewis is close to Dick, and he thinks that if he just moves his hand a little to the left, it’d be over Lew’s. He’s scared that Lewis can hear his heartbeat pattering away. 

“Do you want to do anything else?”

“Yeah,” Lewis stops short. 

“What is it?” 

“Will you,” Lew’s breath comes in fits and starts. “Will you dance with me?” 

“What, here?” Dick is sure that if he weren’t an angel, he would’ve dropped dead right then.

“Yeah,” he can tell Lew is trying hard not to be embarrassed. 

“I don’t know how to dance.”

“Dick, you’re looking at the king of the waltz. You’ve seen it. It’s incredible,” he flicks his eyes to the record player. “Granted, this isn’t a waltz, but all you need is rhythm.” 

“You sure I got it?” 

“I have enough for both of us,” Lewis says, suddenly sure of himself. “Come on. Please?” he pulls Dick off the bed. 

“Lew,” Dick feels like he’s gonna shake out of his body and vault back into heaven. 

“Wait here,” Lewis leaves him in the middle of the room and changes the song. It’s slower than the one before it. Dick gulps. 

“Alright,” Lewis puts his hand on Dick’s waist. “I’ll lead,” he smiles. 

They start, moving in small circles, Lew’s hand sliding to the small of Dick’s back. Lewis is warm and hums softly with the woman crooning in the background. Dick’s shoulders relax, and he’s pulled into the circle of Lew’s arms. Lew is shorter than him, but Dick finds himself resting his forehead on Lew’s shoulder. It’s funny how easily he slides into that position. 

Eventually they’re embraced in the middle of Lew’s rug, barely spinning. Dick’s breathing is deep and mimicked by Lewis, who’s got his face pressed into the crook of Dick’s neck. The sun is streaming in, and a chilly autumn breeze catches Dick’s hair. He feels like he’s dropped completely to Earth now, grounded in the arms of the boy he’s tried to protect all his life. 

They go on like that until well after the record has run out of songs. Dick looks at Lew’s stocking-feet, and he smiles, remembering when Lewis took his first steps on that ocean liner, when he was on his way to England. Dick had been so scared. Lew could have tumbled off the deck, he could have bruised his chin on a nasty fall. Dick had held his breath, watching Lewis sway dangerously, until he finally found his footing, and waddled over to his mother. 

Dick was infinitely more terrified now, even though Lewis was safely in his arms. Lewis was seemingly oblivious of Dick’s emotions, as he kept his head down, moving back and forth just slightly. Part of Dick wanted to jump back and ask Lewis just what he was thinking. But what was Dick thinking? That made Dick shut up and bury his nose into Lew’s shirt. 

Eventually, though, they have to part. Soon Lewis will go down for dinner, and Dick will flit off to a local diner, eager to eat and not think about anything. It’s what Dick and Lew do; something happens that neither of them can explain, and they both go their separate ways for a little while. 

Dick feels Lew’s hand run up his chest to push them apart. 

“Dick,” Lew starts, and Dick can feel them fall down a slippery slope. Panic flares in his chest, and he takes a giant step back. He’s an angel, he reasons. He knows what’s coming, and all he wants to do is go back to Lewis, all he wants to do is look at him and listen to him. He’s that far gone. But angels don’t get to have that. 

“I have to go,” Dick says. Lewis blinks, and Dick has vanished. 

  
  


_ January 21st, 1922 _

 

_ “No, you can’t go outside today, Lewis,” Doris says, her voice strained. “It’s raining buckets out there.”  _

_ Lewis, who’s three and a half, pouts up at his mother. His black hair is long and his nose is runny. He sniffs loudly, but doesn’t argue.  _

_ England is shivering and cold, but snow has been held off by barely above freezing temperatures. Dick knows that there’s gotta be feet of snow in New York, and personally, he’s grateful for the rain.  _

_ “Why don’t you go color?” Doris takes Lew’s hand. “Or maybe have a nap? You look a little tired, sweetie,” she looks around.  _

_ “No,” Lewis says.  _

_ “Dotty?” Doris calls. “Could you take Lewis up for a nap?” a young nanny pulls Lewis away, who is looking increasingly close to a tantrum.  _

_ “No,” Lewis says a little more forcefully.  _

_ He’s dragged up to his room, though Dotty is patient and tries to talking soothingly to him. She places him in his bed.  _

_ “Alright, little Lewis,” she says, cooing. “Just try to lay down for a little while, alright? I’ll be back before you know it.”  _

_ Dick, who has followed them upstairs, watches Lewis try to hide his tears. Dick doesn’t know if he was just born that way, or if his parents have messed him up early in life, but Lewis always tries to hold onto his emotions, tries not to let anyone see them. But he can’t ever keep it up, and eventually he spills over, exploding in anguish or anger or anxiety. Dick tries not to worry too much, as he’s only three, but he’s finding himself comforting Lewis more and more.  _

_ Dotty leaves Lewis, and soon enough the tears start. They fall silently until he winds himself up, and then the sobs start. They wrack his body, and he throws himself down onto the bed, nearly whacking his head on the wall.  _

_ Dick quickly goes to him. He kneels on the floor next to the bed. “Hey, Lew?”  _

_ Lewis stops sobbing immediately and looks up, although the tears continue. He squints at Dick, then quirks his head. “Why are you on the floor?” _

_ “Oh,” it startles a laugh out of him. “I don’t know. Can I sit here?” Dick points to the bed.  _

_ Lewis nods once. The rain has turned into a thunderstorm. It’s so dark it seems like nighttime, and a crack of thunder sounds as Dick settles next to him. Lew flinches and Dick pulls Lewis to him without thinking.  _

_ “It’s okay,” Dick soothes. “It’s just thunder.”  _

_ “Thunder?” he repeats.  _

_ “Yeah. It happens when it rains sometimes,” Dick puts Lew onto his lap, and Lew turns to face him. “The clouds get together and sort of bump into each other. And it makes a big noise,” Dick mimics the loud booming of thunder, and Lewis giggles.  _

_ “Bbbbb-crACK,” Lewis mocks. He claps a couple of times, and Dick nods enthusiastically.  _

_ “There’s also lightning,” Dick continues. “Those are huge flashes of light. That means it’s raining really hard,” Dick turns them to the window, and they wait for a flash.  _

_ “Wow,” Lewis says when a bolt appears close to a tower. He still seems slightly fearful, but then he turns back to Dick.  _

_ “Do you want to take a nap now?” he does seems tired. Often it’s the most logical thing to do when you’re upset, Dick’s learned.  _

_ Lewis looks like he’s about to argue. He squirms in Dick’s arms and huffs. He’s trying to gauge whether Dick will let him stay up.  _

_ “I’ll stick around,” Dick says.  _

_ This relaxes Lewis a bit, but he doesn’t lay down. He gathers the blankets around him, bunching up the covers as much as he can in his tiny hands. Then, to Dick’s surprise, he pillows himself on Dick’s chest, pulling the blankets up to his neck.  _

_ “Okay,” Dick says, leaning back on the headboard. “Okay.”  _

_ The thunder continues, and every once in awhile Lewis jumps, looking up at Dick for reassurance. Dick makes an exaggerated thunder sound, and Lewis smiles and taps Dick’s nose to get him to do it again. _

_ “Come on Lew, go to sleep,” Dick says easily. “I know you’re tired.”  _

_ So Lewis rolls his eyes, but lays his head back down. Dick rubs soothing circles into his back until it seems like Lewis is sleeping.  _

_ He’s surprised when he pops his head back up once more. “Hey,” he whispers.  _

_ “Yeah?” Dick leans down to hear him better.  _

_ “I like your orange hair,” Lewis giggles and ducks away from him again. He squeezes his eyes shut, smiling wide.  _

 

Dick spends a whopping five days away from Lewis. He goes back to New York, hopping from Brooklyn to lower Manhattan to Staten Island and back again. His head is swimming in memories and he feels like he can’t ever face Lewis again. New York doesn’t seem nearly as pretty without Lew in it, and so on the fourth day he flies back to New Haven. He goes to his regular diner, visits any park he comes across, and prays for the first time in years. 

He prays to God, but he knows he’ll be met with silence. Angels don’t exactly get first priority. He does it anyways, wishing for a solution, wishing to be called back to heaven. He regrets the thought immediately. 

Then, in an act of desperation, he prays to Carwood. He’s in a small Lutheran church, somewhere on the outskirts of town. 

“Carwood, come on, I need you,” he hisses. “I’m in some serious trouble. You should never have picked me, I messed it all up.” 

“Hey I didn’t pick you,” Carwood springs up behind Dick, arms crossed. 

“Carwood!” Dick jumps up. “Thank God.” 

“I didn’t pick you,” he repeats. “Lewis did.” 

“Carwood, I can’t do this anymore,” he interrupts. “Lew is an adult now, surely my job is done?”

“You’re not supposed to leave until he doesn’t need you anymore,” he looks irritated, and it doesn’t fit his face. 

“He’s an adult, he’s fine,” Dick stares accusingly at Carwood. “What? What do you know?” 

“Look, Dick,” Carwood puts his hand on Dick’s shoulders. “I’ve, sort of been, keeping tabs on you two.”

“What?”

“When you saved Lew, I got worried,” he explains. “I wasn’t spying, I just, wanted to make sure you two were okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Dick, Lew is always going to need you.”

“You don’t understand, though, I ruined it, I’ve-”

“Yeah, I know. You love him.”

“Not like that though, it’s more,” Dick can’t look at Carwood. “I have to let him go. He needs his own life.” 

When Dick looks up, Carwood is laughing. 

“This isn’t funny,” Dick complains. 

“You don’t want to go back to heaven.”

Dick doesn’t even think about it. “No.”

“Then stay.”

“But, did you not just hear me?” 

“Dick, you can be with Lewis. It’s not unheard of. Your souls are bound together after all,” Carwood explains.  

“But-”

“Why’d you run away from him?”

Dick stares off into the distance. “But I don’t want to be here when he’s gone,” Dick cringes at the thought. 

Carwood holds a hand up. “I can fix that.”

“How?”

“Angels can become human.”

“How?” Dick’s heart starts beating very fast. 

“You have to give up your grace. Voluntarily,” Carwood is smiling at Dick’s confused face. “You’ll be human.”

“It’s that easy?”  
He chuckles. “Yes,” he gazes quizzically at him. “You love him that much?”

“Yes.” 

 

When his grace leaves him, Dick feels weak and dizzy and emotional. Every human feeling hits him all at once and he has to sit down. Carwood is there, reassuring him. 

“I’ve seen a couple of angels do this,” he hands Dick a water bottle. “It takes a couple of days, but you get used to it.” 

He gives Dick directions to campus. He can’t just pop back into Lew’s room, but he finds that he likes the bus. 

He waits outside of Lew’s dorm, unable to go in without a key. He knows Lewis has an early morning lecture, and so he sits on the marble bench outside. He didn’t know it could get so cold, and he prays Lew isn’t late this morning. 

When he sees Lew again, he’s bundled up in his favorite peacoat, looking like a disgruntled seal. He freezes when he catches Dick eyes. 

Dick is expecting anger, but all he sees is relief flooding his dark eyes. They stand there together, just staring. 

“I thought you left for good,” Lew always assumes people will leave him for good, at some point, and Dick feels the physical, human pain of heartache. 

“No,” Dick shivers as he says this. 

“Dick, you don’t have a coat on.” 

“I never needed one, until now,” he says. “Lew, normally I would never condone skipping class, but it’s kind of important, so-”

“Dick, you don’t have to convince me to skip class.” 

 

They tumble back into Lew’s room. Dick grabs a blanket and steals some slippers from under the bed. Lewis eyes him, concerned. 

“Dick, are you okay? It’s only October.”

“I’m just getting used to it.”

“Getting used to what?” 

“Lew,” Dick crowds Lewis, focusing on what I have to say. “I’m sorry I left. I won’t do it again.”

“Hey don’t do that,” Lewis says defensively. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“Let me finish,” Dick says firmly. “Lewis, I’m human.” 

Lew raises his eyebrows in shock. “What do you mean human?”

“I mean,” Dick walks them back until Lew is pressed up against the wall. “No more wings. I gave it up. I’m human.” 

“Why’d you give it up?” Lewis whispers. 

“I didn’t want it anymore,” Dick says simply. 

“Why?” 

“I,” Dick takes a deep breath. “I wanted to stay with you.” 

Lew’s face is a myriad of emotions, and Dick tries to save him from twisting his words. So, he grabs Lewis, and engulfs him in his blanket, pulling him into his warm cocoon. 

“Do you know what I’m saying?” he says into Lew’s ear. 

Lewis looks bewildered. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course,” Dick says, right before he places a soft kiss on his lips. 

Lewis responds in kind, and he grips Dick tightly. Everything is mellow in the morning light, and Dick struggles against the tide of new feelings in his chest. He feels as though he may burst with happiness. 

“The only thing is,” Lewis says when they break apart. 

“What?” Dick says anxiously. 

“Now you’ll have to get a real job.” 

“Just kiss me,” Dick says, laughing against Lew’s lips. 

  
  
  



End file.
